


Aftermath of Mount Weather

by KellyDeaux



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama & Romance, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6570529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellyDeaux/pseuds/KellyDeaux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place after the season two finale (Mt Weather's fall) and is mostly in Clarke's POV. Slow burn that specifically will dive into how she's handled the events that transpired at MW</p><p>In particular this chapter goes over the few days after Clarke hugs Bellamy and leaves Camp Jaha</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Immediate Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I'm not very good at Trigedasleng, so I'll do everyone a favor and not butcher it. Instead, I'll simply be italicizing anything that is meant to have been said in Trigedasleng.
> 
> Thanks and please let me know what you think; people's comments mean the absolute world to me. Enjoy!
> 
> \- KellyDeaux

# Chapter 1 - Immediate Aftermath

Clarke had done it. She infiltrated and rescued her people from Mount Weather, even after Lexa had ordered her people to leave, thereby shattering what shaky of an alliance their people had together. All too well she remembered searching Lexa's eyes for signs of her spoken words being a charade tactic for Mount Weather's benefit and that she would indeed follow through with their alliance and crumble their mutual enemy. Instead, all she could see was the massively annoying, stoic mask of Heda.

Even when the Grounders left, Clarke was unyielding in her desire to get her people the hell out of the mountain. Unfortunately, doing so hadn't been a lighthearted tale, as she couldn't find a compromise to the situation that didn't involve ending hundreds of innocent mountain men, women, and children's lives to save her own people's lives. Included in the slaughtering was the people who had aided her and the other sky people, hid them and attempted the best they could to help get them out of the mountain.

Every single one of them perished with the simple drawing of a fucking lever. Something Clarke had done herself––no matter what anyone said, she knew that she was responsible for every single dead body in Mount Weather. In her heart, she knew it was the right thing for her people, but she couldn't help but feel hollow and torn up inside.

Clarke was a murderer. The lifeless bodies of the mountain's civilians would forever be burned into her mind, willing to happily haunt her for the rest of her days.

It had been three days since the collapse of Mount Weather, since she hugged Bellamy and walked away from Camp Jaha. She couldn't stand to look at her people, her friends, without a constant, sharp stabbing pain in her chest, knowing what she had to do save them. She sacrificed her own mental state to save each and every one of them.

The blonde had left only with the clothes on her back, a small knife, and her gun. That was it. In hindsight, she probably should have opted to sneak out in the middle of the night or something instead, so she could have grabbed some food and supplies, but all she could think about was putting as much distance between her and any reminder of Mount Weather as possible.

Unfortunately, the blonde wasn't as savvy with hunting or building fires or, well, really anything for self-survival. Everyone else had always made the fires or taken the kill-shot on the game they ate.

In short, she had little to no genuine survival skills. She was insanely resourceful and incredibly stubborn, but her resourcefulness was getting herself out of a jam and her stubbornness could often be hindering. Neither of which would aid her in building a damned fire or hunt for food.

Clarke walked for three days with no destination in mind. The jungle terrain hurt her feet, branches and shrubbery poking out at her with every step she took. For the first two days her eyes were often bleary from openly sobbing as she trekked aimlessly. She hadn't found a body of water to drink from or any small game she could even give a stab at hunting. Since she wasn't light on her feet and sneaky like the Grounders, she could only assume the smaller animals heard her and bolted off.

Tired, hungry, thirsty, and incredibly sore––both mentally and physically––Clarke struggled to come up with a game plan. She had no idea where she was and no matter how much she tried to concentrate and form a logical plan, her brain was too foggy and exhausted. Her mouth was drier than beef jerky, she was achy and cranky, and her stomach continued to remind her that she hadn't eaten in far too long. Overall, she felt like crap.

Often her mind would betray her and drift back to the moments in which Lexa bid her a farewell and left her alone on the mountain. Each and every time she would see the woman's face, the impassive Heda mask on her face, Clarke wanted to scream bloody murder or withdraw her gun and try to shoot at that very face. Over their time together, the blonde had begun to trust Lexa, to see not just as a fellow leader, but also as a friend, a confidant. She had grown to really care for the brunette with alluring green eyes.

However, it appeared it wasn't as mutual as Clarke thought, considering how easily Lexa threw away their alliance and abandoned the sky people. People of whom she agreed to work together with, to slaughter a common enemy with.

Deciding to stop for the night, the blonde sought out firewood to build a fire with. Eventually she gathered up enough sticks and broken branches to, but she was unable to rub the freaking stick to the bundle of wood at precisely the right angle and swiftness to get the fire going. It wasn't for a lack of trying, either, as she sat there for at least ten minutes doing everything she had remembered seeing others do to try to coax a fire to life.

Clarke eventually resigned herself to the fact that she wasn't getting anywhere with the fire and kicked out at the pile of sticks bitterly. She perched herself up against a sturdy tree and tried to huddle more into her dirty and now tattered jacket for warmth.

Shivering for what easily felt like forever, Clarke kept herself leaning against the tree, trying to empty her thoughts enough to drift off to sleep. Sometime later she did manage to doze off, but it wasn't because she had managed to close herself off from the plethora of lingering thoughts. No, it was because her body had no more energy to keep her eyes open.

Behind her eyelids, however, Clarke was plagued by flashes of the dead souls at the mountain. She seen each and every face, remembering only a couple dozen of their names. The entire time at the mountain, she really didn't take nearly enough time to get to know the people. In some regards, that was good because it made the overwhelming her mind less brutal to see, but in other ways, it made her suffering and guilt even worse. She killed hundreds upon hundreds of souls and didn't even know a third of their names.

Knowing she could be so disgusting and heartless made her quake in mental agony. Unknowingly, the blonde was literally shaking as she was sleeping, both from the detrimental dream state and the cold weather.

Later that same evening, the dreams behind her eyelids were so bad that it woke her up. She jolted forward, a panicked scream escaping her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. She dreamt that the mountain men had found a way to reanimate themselves and sought out revenge. They tied her to a pole like the Grounders had done with Finn and were each taking turns cutting her for every one of their deaths.

Reeling from the awful dreams, the blonde leaned over and dry heaved. Since she hadn't consumed anything to throw up, her body went through the motions of dryly. She couldn't stop the tears that stung her eyes and the pain in her head from dehydration and sleep deprivation. Since what she did in Mount Weather, she couldn't close her eyes and not see them.

She knew that was the price of saving her people––to suffer for an eternity on her people's behalf. To wither in mental and physical anguish.

In her eyes, she didn't deserve it any other way. No matter what way it was looked at, Clarke ended those people's lives. Most of them were innocent to what was going on, but that didn't stop her from ceasing their existence. It was unforgivable.

Once her body calmed enough for her to stop dry heaving and weeping, the blonde curled into fetal position with her spine pressing against the tree and passed out.

* * *

The blonde awoke to nearby voices. She wasn't sure how long she was out for, but with her instincts kicking in, Clarke darted to her feet in an ungraceful motion and withdrew her knife, holding it out in front of her. Dehydration and lack of food made her movements stiff and delayed. Hell, she knew she probably looked as frightening as a field mouse in her current condition.

Unable to make out the words spoken, Clarke pressed her body against the thick, sturdy tree she slept against last night. She could tell that there were at least two people, a man and a woman, from the pitch of their voices. Additionally she could tell they were getting closer to her because after a couple of sounds the words sounded less and less muffled, but she still couldn't tell if they were speaking English or Trigedasleng.

A minute passed before she could confirm that it was only two individuals heading her general direction and the language spoken, Trigedasleng. Her understanding of the language was a mere dent in the bucket. She had tried to learn the language and culture, but the importance of defeating the mountain men overshadowed everything else.

 _"–footsteps lead in this direction,"_ the feminine voice said softly, just above a whisper. _"Let's keep going, the Commander wants us to find her."_

Of what was said, only Lexa's formal title, Heda, was distinguishable. Panic stole her breath away, her hands shaking uncontrollably. Now that their alliance was over, did Lexa intend to kill her?

 _"The Commander of Death isn't trying very hard if we've been able to track her this easily,"_ the man noted halfheartedly.

 _"Agreed,"_ pipped the female.

Clarke could understand an occasional word or two, but not enough to form a conclusion on what was being said. One thing she knew with certainty, she wouldn't be able to protect herself against Grounders in her weakened state with only a knife and a handgun. Guns were handy, but loud; who knew how many other Grounders were close by.

Normally she would contemplate what to do, really think it out. However, since the incident at Mount Weather, she really didn't stop to think about anything. Lingering thoughts were dangerous. Bad coping method? Maybe.

The blonde pushed herself off the tree she was leaning against and bolted, running as fast as she could. Her footsteps were definitely audible, her breathing was labored as fuck, and each bone in her body protested with every step, but she just kept going. Instinctively she zigzagged a bit to try and avoid potential flying arrows or spears in case the Grounders were ordered to end her life.

No arrows or spears flew at her, though.

Clarke tried to steal a glance back and see if she was being followed, but before she really got a good look, she miscalculated her next step. Her ankle twisted with a loud, wince-worthy crunch. She cried out in pain and tumbled forward to the ground, rolling clumsily to the forest floor.

The pain was deafening as she cupped her hands around her injured ankle, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. Despite the pain and the tears and the urge to give up and just die right then and there, she remembered what she was doing, trying to run from the Grounders, and it motivated her enough to keep going. She pushed herself onto her stomach with her uninjured leg and kept moving by crawling on the forest terrain, digging her hands like hooks into the ground and pulling her weight to meet her arms. Her arms burned and the pain in her ankle was searing, but she ignored both.

 _"She is injured. Cut her off!"_ The male voice called out, his voice clear and concise, indicating he was really close to her.

There was no response from the woman, which made Clarke's panic grow more. She sped up her movements, clawing the earth forcefully and grunting as she struggled to draw her body up near where she clawed her arm. By this time, the blonde had scraped herself against every tree branch and twig, leaving her hands and arms with small, bloodied cuts. Her articles of clothing were ripped in multiple places and beyond dirty.

 _"Commander of Death,"_ the blonde heard directly in front of her from the woman Grounder.

Acting on fear, Clarke pushed both of her dirty hands into the dirt to propel her body into a leaning position. She howled in pain as her body shifted too much onto her wounded ankle. Her vision was blurry from tears that littered her face and putting up with far too much pain, the blonde ungainly withdrew her faithful handgun and aimed it at the woman who stood only a couple feet in front of her.

Realization flickered in the woman Grounder's eyes, but she made no movement. In fact, she didn't even seem to be breathing, nor shift her weight. It was calculated, too calculated…

Before Clarke had the opportunity to put two and two together, she felt the gun she was holding forced from her hand. Caught by surprise, she yelped, but balled the hand that wasn't holding the gun into a fist and lashed out at the man who had grabbed the gun. Her punch must have felt like a pillow because the Grounder didn't so much as grunt.

"Wanheda, we mean you no harm," the female Grounder said in English. At this point, the blonde had both her hands balled into fists crossed in front of her face in a last effort to defend herself.

"Why the fuck should I believe you?" Clarke spit back, her voice raspy, but filled with venom. She hadn't spoken in days, not since she spoke to Bellamy before leaving Camp Jaha.

"I am _Shae of Trikru_ ," the brunette continued before pointing to the man who stood diagonal of Clarke. "My brother, _Rhett of Trikru_."

Taking a moment to digest the words Shae said and calm her nerves, Clarke studied the two Grounders.

The woman, who called herself Shae, was about as tall as Clarke herself with braided brunette hair. She wore light armor with two sheathed swords at either side of her hips. Multiple scars littered the visible skin of the woman's arms.

Rhett, on the other hand, was much taller and built like an ox. He, too, wore light armor with visible scarring down his arms and a few on his face. His hair was short and darker than his sisters. Similarities could be seen in Shae and Rhett's facial features. Both had gray-green eyes with rounded noses and gaunt cheeks. There was no doubt in the blonde's mind that they were related.

"I'm Clarke," the blonde replied at last, unsure what else to say. It felt like the right thing to do. Though she had a feeling they knew who she was.

"We know who you are, Wanheda," Rhett replied calmly.

She wanted to ask what the hell 'Wanheda' meant, but Rhett continued speaking before she could interject. "After we left the mountain on the Commander's orders, she pulled me and Shae aside, told us to keep an eye on sky people. Specifically on you." He shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he seen Clarke narrow her eyes and clench her jaw at the newly discovered information. "The Commander wanted us to track you, to make sure you were okay. We mean you no harm. She wishes to see you safe."

"Why?" The blonde asked bitterly, "Why does Lexa care?"

"Don't know," Shae answered, shrugging her shoulders lightly.

Clarke scoffed. "You can tell Lexa to eat shit and die."

Both of the Grounders stared at Clarke confusedly. Apparently that was yet another expression the Grounder culture was unfamiliar with.

"Tell Lexa that I don't fucking care. She left my people to die on that mountain. She left me there," Clarke clarified, her voice cracking toward the end of the sentence. She stared down at the dirt, not wanting either of the two in her presence to see the tears that pricked her eyes.

"The Commander figured you would say something to that effect. She instructed us to tell you in reply that she 'commanded with her head and not her heart, Clarke'," Rhett said simply.

"Are you serious?" The blonde retorted snappily, clenching her hands into the ground. "If _the Commander_ wants to speak to me so badly, she can track me her fucking self and not send her damned messengers."

Clarke rocked her weight back, then forward and pushed her palms into the dirt to help get herself into a somewhat standing position. Knowing the level of pain that was to come, the blonde had bit her lip to stifle the urge to shriek at the blazing pain in her ankle. Jaw clenched and fists balled, she continued on stubbornly trying to stand.

She wobbled and nearly fell back on her ass, but Rhett had closed what little distance there was between them and placed his arms on her shoulders to help steady her. Clarke flinched like she was being punched when the man's hands touched her. She stiffened herself and a beat later swatted his hands away obstinately and found her balance teetering again. He didn't seem to be affected by the blonde's idle attempts to dismiss his help.

"What does she want?" Clarke challenged, her voice laced with acid. Did Lexa truly have the audacity to leave her at the mountain to fend for herself and then feign care for her thereafter?

"To ensure your safety," Shae responded, her voice mildly bored.

"Somehow I doubt that," the blonde retorted, attempting to limp away from Rhett. "She didn't care at the mountain." She tried to put a little weight on her ankle and wailed in pain as a blister of pain cascaded up her ankle.

The brunette sighed and looked over at her brother. _"Rhett, carry her. We'll bring her back since she's not listening. If she wants to talk to the Commander so badly, let's give her that."_

 _"Yes, sister,"_ Rhett replied with a solemn nod before leaning forward and picking Clarke up bridal style with little effort. The blonde squealed in surprise and whacked at the man forcefully when she was in his arms, demanding he put her down, but he didn't listen, simply followed behind his sister.

Besides Clarke's protests and punching out at Rhett weakly, they walked in silence. Ultimately the blonde gave in after she realized she was simply too weak and in too much pain to fight because her punches were about as strong as pokes.

During the walk, Clarke blacked out.

* * *

"Ahh!" Clarke screamed as she sprang upright from yet another nightmare. She let out a whimper as she began to feel the stinging pain in her body and she hugged herself in an effort to put a stop to the panic attack before it seized up her mind.

She wasn't paying a bit of mind to her surroundings, so she didn't realize that she was sitting on a bed of furs in a moderately sized tent. Or that Lexa was there.

Lexa sat up from where she had been sitting––in a chair on the other side of the tent, an effort to give Clarke space––and approached her slowly. "You're okay, Clarke," she said softly, her voice genuine.

Instantly recognizing the voice, Clarke's head snapped up to meet Lexa's eyes. Her mouth was gaped open in surprise, eyes widened and filled with so many emotions as they coursed through her all at once. Hurt, fear, anger, surprise, longing, being just a few of the many that seized her.

The moment Clarke's attention snapped to Lexa, she seen the brunette halt mid-step. She witnessed Lexa flinch as she comprehended each emotion that flickered in the blonde's eyes. The blonde didn't speak, expecting her voice to be raw and raspy, but also because she was afraid her voice would betray her by cracking. Instead of speaking, she simply stared daggers at Lexa who had yet to move a muscle beyond the initial flinch.

They went on to stare at one another like that for what felt like hours. In actuality it was only minutes, though. Idly, Clarke wondered if Lexa's muscles were stinging from awkwardly standing mid-step.

Clarke licked her dry, chapped lips and swallowed thickly before considering trying to speak. Her voice was hoarse and raw, almost like she spent all of the previous day screaming, as she asked, "Why?"

"I was trying to lead with my head and not my heart," the brunette answered plainly with her stoic, Heda mask of a face. Clarke continued to stare at Lexa as she had responded and swore she seen sorrow flicker across the brunette's face before settling back in the impassive mask.

"Yeah, I heard that same bullshit from your guard dogs, too," the blonde said, a level of rancor in her voice despite how gravelly her voice sounded.

Lexa's unemotional facial expression faltered again, this time longer, as if she were conflicted. Seizing the opportunity with the visible crack in the brunette's resolve, Clarke decided to continue, wanting to cause the Commander pain just as she herself felt. "Here I thought you were a leader who could be held to her word, but it turns out you're nothing but a fake."

An impish smirk tugged at the blonde's lip as she spotted Lexa ball her fists, clearly struggling to control the cool and collected camouflage she hid behind. Admittedly, it wasn't the first time she seen the commander conflicted. She regularly seen the woman fight between being Heda, the fierce and immovable commander, and Lexa, a gentler, more caring version of the same person.

Lexa let out a ragged breath as the Heda veil completely crumbled before Clarke's eyes. The brunette didn't look away from Clarke, even as her eyes got glossy with tears that she refused to let fall and bit her lip to minimize the whimper that was still heard escaping her mouth.

In that very moment, Clarke understood, a tidal wave of the truth hit her head on. Lexa was the commander of her people, and thus always had to put them first and foremost. She was leading with her head and not her heart, which urged her to stand tall by Clarke's side. Clarke could see the paradox unfolding behind the brunette's eyes.

That knowledge didn't change anything, though. The fact still was that Lexa left her at Mount Weather, abandoned her. She could very well have stood beside Clarke and the rest of the sky people and dethroned Mount Weather. That option hadn't been taken off the table.

"We could have defeated Mount Weather together, but you left." Clarke stated factually, her voice breaking up by the end.

"No," Lexa replied softly and swallowed thickly as if it helped keep her from letting her tears fall. "They threatened to kill every one of my people that were held in captivity."

"You're wrong, Bellamy was there–" Clarke began, but got interjected by the brunette.

"Bellamy is only one person, Clarke," she said, her voice vulnerable and soft. "As much as I would like to believe he could have been able to save all of my people, he's only one person. There were too many mountain men and not enough Bellamy's."

Shamelessly, Clarke brought her hands to her face and sobbed, knowing that Lexa was right. She hated to even think about admitting it, but there was no realistic option for the Grounders. It was just… The fact that Lexa left her, after all they went through…

"You still left," the blonde choked out between sobs. She was mentally broken by what she did, constantly reliving the aching moments when Lexa left and Clarke had to break out her people by herself.

"I know," Lexa answered, her own voice sounding like it was on the verge of tears.

For the longest time neither spoke. Clarke blubbered and sobbed quietly and Lexa fought to contain her own emotions. She had since inched closer to Clarke, but refused to close the distance all the way, too afraid of what might happen, knowing there was a real possibility she would be rejected or swatted at or hit or any other number of things. Worse yet, she knew she deserved every one of those numerous possibilities.

Alas, Lexa spoke, "I'm sorry, Clarke." In that moment everything was on the table, she was completely exposing herself in the apology. So much was left hanging in the air, unspoken, but Clarke understood every bit of it. Even more so when her ocean blue eyes met Lexa's forest green. The brunette's eyes alone conveyed so much, how sincere she was in her apology, how much she truly did care for Clarke, and just how much unexpressed love she felt towards the blonde.

"I know," the blonde managed to say halfheartedly, her cheeks puffy and eyes red rimmed from crying.

In that moment she knew one thing with absolute clarity: no matter what happened on the mountain or how badly Clarke desperately wanted to hate Lexa and blame her for what happened, she couldn't. She couldn't put all the blame on the brunette and she definitely couldn't hate Lexa no matter how hard she tried because she loved her. She loved Lexa, and she knew from that last shared look that Lexa loved her just as powerfully back.


	2. Adjusting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realization dawns as Clarke awakes in the Grounder village tent, still. It wasn't a dream after all, it was real. How she copes with the events that come next, well… Read on to find out! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter, but it's to show the continued strain between Lexa and Clarke and just overall how damaged Clarke is (both mentally and physically). 
> 
> Originally this story was going to be solely from Clarke's perspective, but I may shift between the two a little bit because it will make for an overall easier read. As always, please enjoy and leave me feedback, it means the absolute world to me!

# Chapter 2 - Adjusting

Lexa returned to the chair on the other side of the tent, silently guarding over the mentally and physically injured blonde. After the enlightening and incredibly intense conversation the two had, Clarke basically passed out. Crying took up what little energy she had left.

The blonde awoke with nightmares about what happened at Mount Weather several times throughout the night. Every single time the brunette would bolt to the bed of furs and attempt to quell the stress that practically bubbled out of Clarke.

After the third time the injured blonde stirred from a nightmare, Lexa hastily moved the chair so it was beside Clarke's bed. Eventually she found that humming lullabies helped Clarke stave off the demons. Perhaps it was just enough of a connection to reality to keep them at bay.

* * *

The next morning, Clarke's eyes fluttered open and she let out a pained, groggy groan as she lifted her hands to her aching head. It was the first time since the fall of Mount Weather that she was able to rouse naturally from sleep unaided by nightmares. She remained on her back for several moments while her eyes adjusted to her surroundings. Naturally the first thing she spotted was the yellow-orange fabric of the tent she was in.

Slowly she swiveled her head left to right, surveying the room she was in. The tent wasn't fancy, in fact it was pretty sparse. Diagonally to the left was a small wooden desk with papers littering it haphazardly. A bit more to the right, basically straight ahead of where she lay, was the tent flap, but it was zipped all the way up for privacy. To her right was Lexa sitting in a crudely built chair right beside her. The brunette was sprawled clumsily on the chair, so much so that she could only imagine the kind of kinks she'd have in her neck and back when she awoke. Behind where Lexa sat was another small wooden table, but this one had two cups and a pitcher next to it.

Then bits and pieces of the previous night flooded back to her. She was unfortunately reminded of the agonizing, but informative, conversation she had with the older brunette. Additionally she remembered waking up several times throughout the night from nightmares and how each and every time Lexa seemed to miraculously materialize to comfort her until she dozed back off.

A whirl of emotions hit her as she acknowledged the memories and bile bubbled up her throat. She carefully sat upright, feeling dizzy and off kilter, and leaned her body over to the left on the off chance that her body wished to remind her yet again that she had not eaten.

Her movement apparently didn't go unnoticed by the brunette in the chair beside her because soon enough Clarke felt a pair of strong, calming hands on her shoulders. Lexa's hands. Clarke wanted to look in her peripheral vision, see if she could get a glimpse of the brunette's face beside her, but she felt so awful that she didn't want to tempt it. Instead, she gave a small nod to verify that she knew Lexa was there.

They remained quiet for several minutes while Clarke fought to calm herself. Her nerves were shot from everything that happened and she hadn't slept nearly enough to make up for the days of sleeplessness. She had a raging headache and was so dizzy that she figured if it got any worse the room would just stand still again. Worse of all was the unyielding, sharp pain in her injured ankle and general achy feeling that radiated throughout her body.

"Would you like to eat?" Lexa asked after several moments of silence. Clarke had lost weight in the five days since the fall of Mount Weather, as her clothes were baggier on her and her face looked gaunter.

Not trusting herself to speak, the blonde simply nodded. The brunette dashed quickly off, promising to return in a moment.

True to her word, Lexa returned a moment later with two steaming hot bowls filled with some kind of soup. Wordlessly, the brunette handed Clarke one of the bowls before sitting back in the chair she awoke in with her own.

Skeptical, Clarke felt the need to ask, "What is it?"

Lexa already had a spoonful of it in front of her mouth, blowing on it to cool it down. "Rabbit soup," she replied between blows.

The aroma of the soup was heavenly and it took all her willpower not to just forgo apprehension, open her mouth, and pour the contents straight down despite the hotness. She remained steadfast in ensuring she wasn't being tricked and that the food was safe for her to eat.

Putting together why the blonde hadn't attempted to eat any of her soup yet, Lexa sighed in defeat. Her heart clenched at the distrust Clarke felt towards her. "It's not poisoned, Clarke," she stated calmly.

Clarke winced as Lexa said her name. In the past, she used to revel in the way the brunette seemed to accent the k sound, but it didn't sound that way anymore. It was another reminder of Lexa's betrayal. She didn't dare say a word, neither confirming or denying that Lexa had correctly drawn the conclusion as to why she hadn't attempted to eat.

Frustrated, Lexa leaned over and took a spoonful of Clarke's soup, blew on it a few times, and then swallowed it. "See? Not poisoned," she explained as peacefully as possible, "now please eat." Her last words were more pleading than a commanding statement.

The blonde stared wordlessly at Lexa for several moments, almost as if she was certain that the woman beside her would suddenly croke at any time. As minutes passed and the brunette hadn't showed any signs of having ingested poison, Clarke sighed and looked away. She immediately felt bad for assuming the worst in Lexa's intentions, but after everything that happened, she was apprehensive to take a leap of faith with the woman.

Tension grew in the room with Clarke staring idly off to the left. She still hadn't made an attempt to eat. Lexa fought to keep her composure because of how pigheaded and stubborn the blonde was being. She leaned over towards the injured woman once more, which made Clarke's eyes snap back to Lexa's, and took another spoonful of the blonde's soup. Blowing on it to cool it, she cautiously moved it towards the blonde. "Please, Clarke," she muttered pleadingly.

Clarke could see the sincerity in the brunette's eyes and hear the plea in her voice. Without even realizing it until she felt the hot contents on her tongue, she had opened her mouth and accepted the spoonful of soup from Lexa. She spotted the brunette's tense shoulders relax slightly, seemingly thankful that she gingerly accepted to eat.

Thereafter the blonde ate her soup, if no other reason than to avoid embarrassingly being fed it. Neither of them spoke as they chowed down their food, but somehow it was a comforting silence. Even after everything that happened, they were naturally content in one another's company.

Clarke wanted so badly to hate Lexa and distance herself from the woman who caused her immense amounts of pain. She had successfully distanced herself from everyone after Mount Weather, but somehow she managed to be pulled––forced was probably the better phrasing––back to Lexa. It scared her how easily she submitted to it in spite of everything that happened.

After she finished eating her entire bowl of soup, Lexa took her bowl and put it on the nearby table. The blonde could sense that there was so much the older woman wanted to say, but remained quiet as if she knew they were still walking on eggshells around one another. There was much she wanted to say, as well, but she had no idea how to put voice to the words and form a sentence that would seem anything other than lackluster.

"You should rest," the brunette stated several minutes later.

"I'm fine," Clarke stubbornly replied, even though her body was wailing in agreement to Lexa's suggestion.

"Clarke… Your body needs rest," Lexa tentatively tried again. She knew commanding Clarke wouldn't work, the woman was too headstrong to ever listen and would likely just spitefully remind her that the sky people do not bow to her or lace it back to the events at Mount Weather.

The blonde clenched her jaw and turned to look Lexa straight in the eyes. Defiantly she spat back angrily, "As I said, I'm fine."

Lexa let out a resigned sigh, slumping her shoulders. She fought to keep her emotions in check as she impartially replied, "It appears my presence is not helping, so I will return to check on you later. I hope you reconsider and rest. You really do need it."

She stood from her seated place and avoided looking at Clarke because she knew one look at the blonde would be her undoing. As it was, she was barely holding herself together.

"NO!" Clarke suddenly yelled, her voice frantic. "Don't–don't leave me again," she whimpered, her eyes wide with panic and shimmering with unshed tears. She, too, was fighting an internal battle with her emotions. The very last thing she wanted was for Lexa to leave her. Again.

Lexa, who had her back to Clarke and thereby couldn't see the blonde's near broken down state, grimaced upon hearing the blonde say 'again'. She didn't move a single muscle after the blonde said her piece, struggling to control the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks.

Nodding in reply, the brunette drew in a shaky breath, turned on her heel and made her way back to the chair she was previously sitting on. She knew that Clarke would see her nearly teared state and that made her anxious. She was Heda, commander of the twelve clans, but for some reason being in so emotionally vulnerable around Clarke made her feel like her entire world was going to crumble and fall. Undoubtedly she would feel massively uncomfortable being in a weakened state around anyone, but it being Clarke specifically amplified her discomfort because she knew such exposure was because she loved Clarke and hated what she did to her.

"I will stay," Lexa promised, though her words had more meaning than just remaining with the blonde in the tent. It was a solemn vow to protect and cherish her.

"Thank you," the blonde mewled as tears streamed down her cheeks. As the brunette had walked back into the tent, Clarke had laid her head back and turned on her side so she'd face where Lexa sat.

They stared silently at one another until Clarke's eyes eventually shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter! I'll post the next one up within 24 hours, as I'm still adding the chapters I have already written. If you're incredibly curious and can't wait for the next fix, you can find said chapters [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11876735/1/Aftermath-of-Mount-Weather). It'll take a couple days for both of my stories to be fully updated here, too


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While continuing to heal, Clarke finds herself seeking answers from Lexa to questions looming her mind. Nyko makes a true appearance in this one, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a forewarning, I'll be avoiding quite a few of the things that happened in the TV show's season three for several reasons. One of which being that I haven't been overly thrilled with quite a bit of this latest season and also want to steer the story in a unique direction. An immediate example of something that will be avoided like the plague is I won't be including Pike or any of the struggles Arkadia has endured since Pike joined the show. That said, there will of course be new threats and struggles, but those will be revealed naturally as the story unfolds
> 
> Also, as usual, anytime Trigedasleng is spoken, it will simply be written in italics since I don't know the language beyond a couple of words here and there. As always, enjoy and let me know what you thought! :)

# Chapter 3 - Unearthing Truths

Clarke slept on and off for about two days while her body tried to slowly recuperate from being so extensively neglected. Occasionally she would be gently awoken by Lexa, who would provide her with food and water, or let her know that her injuries were being looked at by Nyko.

While the blonde was ever appreciative of Lexa's uncompromising aid to ensuring she made a full recovery, she just didn't really care. Her own self neglect ran deep. Much deeper than not eating properly or being incredibly dehydrated and having constant, horrible, vivid nightmares leaving her unable to sleep soundly through the night. It was worse than that, believe it or not.

She had stopped believing in herself and the convictions and morals she held so steadfast to when she first reached Earth. Her short time on the ground had altered her views and slowly poisoned her innocence, hardening her to the unsavory truth. The truth that while the ground was breathtaking and magnificent, so full of beauty and life, it was also horrendous and filled with unscrupulous amounts of violence.

Ever so slowly she found herself inching closer and closer to violence, breaking away from the person she was raised to be and moving towards that of a hardened survivor in plagued lands. When she was locked in her cell on the Ark drawing the beauties of the ground on her cell walls, she was blissfully ignorant to the reality of the situation she would soon enough be in.

Clarke never lost the inherited push to survive when she landed on Earth. Something else she never lost was the urge to protect and care for her people. In fact, the desire to keep her people safe grew with each passing day on the ground. Eventually that led to Clarke eradicating an entire colony of people just to preserve her own. Unfortunately, no matter what way she looked at it and the countless hours she spent mulling over it, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that the mountain men would have ruthlessly sought out and slaughtered Clarke and her people had she not put a stop to them first. Meaning, regardless someone had to stoop down and be the abhorrent person to protect and salvage their own people.

That was why Clarke was able to pull the lever, to annihilate every single mountain person within their home. As much as it weighed on her mind every second of every day, she knew she would do it again, and again, if she had to. She would always do whatever was necessary to keep her people safe.

What she did was despicable and she couldn't figure out how to stomach it, let alone move on from it and live her life. Did she deserve even an ounce of happiness after everything she had done? All of the lives she had directly and indirectly caused an end to?

These were the thoughts that lingered in her head, both when she was asleep and awake. They and haunting images reminding her of the kind of person she had become since she landed on the ground. People say that time heals all wounds, but Clarke's had not even begun to scab.

* * *

Clarke awoke in the tent as she had many times since her arrival. Her eyes were glistening from unshed tears, her head hurt with a dull ache, the pain in her ankle was unbearable, and every little cut she had acquired trying to get away from the brother and sister Grounders stung painfully. Her eyes moved lazily around the room trying to adjust to her surroundings, her head swimming with pain.

Unsure how much time had passed since she had been carried by Rhett, Clarke gently removed the furs that covered her body to determine how badly her ankle was damaged. It was an angry shade of purple-pink, definitely swollen, and very tender to the gentlest touch. She wouldn't be walking anytime soon.

It dawned on her then that she was alone in the tent. If her ankle wasn't in such bad shape, the blonde would probably try to stubbornly flee from the Grounder camp. She clearly wasn't being held against her will, that much she knew. Additionally she was very well aware that Lexa was trying to aid her, but Clarke couldn't quite figure out why, what the brunette was getting out of it, and that unnerved her to no end. She felt uncomfortably weak and exposed around people who she was technically no longer in an alliance with; they left her and her people at the mountain to fend for themselves, so then why was Lexa going out of her way to help her?

Around the time the gears started turning in Clarke's head, Lexa had peeked her head in the tent to check on the blonde and was surprised to spot Clarke alert and assessing her wounds. She debated whether she should enter the tent or leave Clarke be, but when she could practically hear the wheels turning in the blonde's head and the look of conflict on her face, the Commander made up her mind.

"Hello Clarke," Lexa said formally as she pulled back the flap to the tent and entered. Calculatedly she remained near the exit in case the blonde requested to be left alone.

Clarke's head snapped up to the sounds that penetrated the silence, drawing her from her innermost thoughts. Lexa stood rigidly tall by the entrance of the tent with her unreadable Heda mask guarding whatever she was truly thinking. She loathed that impassive mask that the brunette often wore because it stopped her from having the slightest clue what was going on inside the brunette's head.

"What do you want?" Clarke said, her voice sounding nastier than she intended it to.

"I arrived to check on you," Lexa stated, unaffected by the harshness in the blonde's voice. "Since you are awake, do you need anything?"

"Answers," the blonde muttered bitterly, her voice in a low whisper.

Lexa remained quiet a moment, thinking. She wasn't sure whether she should make it known that she heard Clarke's murmured voice or not. After a moment of reluctance she asked, "To what, Clarke?"

Taken aback by the question, assuming that her snide remark would fall upon deaf ears, the blonde tried to buy time to mull over all the questions she had by shifting herself on the bed of furs. She cringed heavily and bit back a howl as pain radiated throughout her body, originating from her ankle. Letting out a trembling breath after reigning in her composure, Clarke looked Lexa right in the eyes as she asked, her voice more vulnerable than she would have liked, "Why am I here?"

"To recover," the brunette responded, the faintest bit of humor in her voice. It caused Clarke to simply scowl at her, desiring the true answer. Rolling her eyes, Lexa amended her statement for the blonde's benefit, "I did not want you to get yourself killed, Clarke. You are important."

"Important for what, Lexa? You broke the alliance between our people when you left us on that mountain," Clarke retorted sternly. As much as she hated it, she understood why Lexa took the deal and left. It was the right thing for her people, but it didn't make it any easier for Clarke to digest.

Lexa sighed impatiently, taking a few steps towards the bed Clarke sat on. Of course the blonde would assume her importance was solely involving their people. With every step she took towards Clarke's bed, she felt her unemotional mask break a little more until eventually she was just Lexa of Trikru standing before the blonde, all of her emotions easily readable on her face. She struggled to speak, a lump in her throat at the thought of actually putting a voice to the words that floated around her head.

"Your importance isn't just to bridge our people," she husked out finally, her eyes on Clarke's, her breathing uneven.

"Then please enlighten me to the full scope of my importance, Commander?" Clarke asked with a clenched jaw, refusing to fall prey to what she felt like Lexa was implying. The brunette didn't care for her, she couldn't have. She had claimed love to be weakness and left her on the mountain without even a labored hesitation.

She noticed the brunette's eyes fall to the floor and the emotions cross the woman's face as the sneer of Clarke's comment sunk in. She hadn't realized before spotting the emotions flicker across the brunette's face that Lexa had lowered the mask she usually hid strongly behind, apparently allowing the blonde a rare glance to the woman below.

After several moments of silence, obviously noticing the brunette's struggle to put a voice to her words, Clarke dropped the cocky attitude she was harboring. "Tell me, please," she beseeched, her voice sincere and soft. She never let her eyes waver from searching the brunette's face.

"You are not just important to bridging our people," Lexa reiterated, forcing her eyes off the floor and to stare back at the ocean blue ones that were boring holes into her face. Her mouth was dry and pasty, her heart racing a mile a minute, knowing she was about to go against the very essence of her 'love is weakness' mantra. Realistically, though, she knew that she had shattered that motto long ago when she first began to fall for Clarke Griffin.

Taking a beat, Lexa schooled her breathing closer to normal and reigned in her slowly shattering composure before admitting aloud something that had only before remained entirely to herself, "You are important to me, Clarke." Her voice naturally drew out the word 'me', stressing the importance of the word in the sentence.

Clarke hadn't taken her eyes off the Commander's, trying desperately to figure out what had the woman so evidently flustered. Then Lexa's words echoed in her mind: _you are important to me, Clarke_. Automatically her body shivered in delight while her brain tried to pick apart and process the words and their meaning. Confusion flickered across her face and she tried to speak several times, only to find the words she desired to say not leaving her mouth.

Her emotions had constantly suffocated her since the moment she pulled the lever in Mount Weather, and while Clarke had come to realize not long after that they were out of options and didn't have a choice, it didn't ease the nightmares or afflicted feelings in her heart. In fact, if anything, it made her heart feel like it was made out of thick sheets of black ice. Up until she heard Lexa's latest confession, that is.

"What do you mean?" Clarke asked, her voice thick with uncertainty. She needed to be sure.

Silence engulfed the room once more as the blonde examined the apprehension in Lexa's face. As the seconds ticked past, it became more than obvious that the brunette's struggles involved physically saying whatever it was she had to say. Like if she said whatever was on her mind, it would be her undoing.

"One of the clans in the coalition has always been rather troublesome, desiring to see me dethroned by any means necessary. She knows the only way to truly hurt me is to go after my heart," Lexa's voice was eerily hoarse, her eyes showing that every uttered word was utmost truth.

Though Lexa hadn't come straight out and say it, Clarke knew the brunette was admitting her feelings for her, that she couldn't bare to see harm come to her. However, the blonde knew there was more to what was going on, there had to be. "Are they planning to break away from the coalition?" Clarke asked quietly.

Lexa sighed and the features on her face gave way to how exhausted she was. "Not exactly, no. After Mount Weather's fall, I received word that the leader of Azgeda, the clan in the coalition that is most troublesome, wishes to capture the power of the one responsible," as the brunette leader spoke, Clarke could see the brunette's eyes seep in concern. "My people hold the belief that upon killing someone, they receive the power from those the slain has killed, too. Nia, the leader of the Ice Nation, wishes to become _Wanheda_ , the Commander of Death." The brunette's voice was cold as she spoke of the Azgeda leader, her eyes lingering over Clarke's features.

Noticing the confusion on the blonde's face, not having fully grasped what was being said, Lexa continued, speaking softly. "For hundreds of years my people have suffered at the hands of the reapers and the mountain men. We were ill equipped at understanding what was happening or even how to begin to rectify the situation. For what you did at the mountain, my people have come to refer to you as _Wanheda_. The Commander of Death."

Comprehension gleamed in the blonde's eyes as they grew heavy with sullen tears that she refused to let fall. She cleared her throat and slowly regained her composure. "I can barely think about what I did without feeling sick to my stomach, the hundreds of lives I ended without hesitation, and your people are giving me a name like I deserve some kind of medal for _killing_ over three hundred people?" Her voice gave way to the disbelief she felt.

"Clarke, you may have killed all of the mountain men, but you also stopped a lot of deaths. I know it doesn't seem that way, but you did," Lexa's voice was genuine as she tried to get Clarke to see the truth, the bigger picture. "So many families lost their loved ones––daughters, sons, mothers, fathers, lovers. They would disappear only to reappear months later as a reaper, a possessed body of what the person they loved used to be. These people had mourned and put to bed the one loved only to be plagued by seeing them again in a hollow form of the person they remembered." Lexa's voice was husky as she remembered the telltale devastation that washed over people's faces when they couldn't find their loved one. "Many could not do what was necessary to put their loved one's body to peace when they seen them as a reaper. As a result, they paid the ultimate price with their lives."

Clarke was rendered speechless. She had never considered viewing the situation from the Grounder's perspective. Admittedly, she didn't acknowledge the pain and anguish Lexa's people must have felt when the ones they loved turned up as reapers. They didn't know that their people who had become 'reapers' were still there, trapped underneath the primitive, uncontrollable urge for the drugs that were pumped into them by the mountain. Equally, the blonde didn't realize that the feud between the mountain men and the Grounders had been going on for so long. How many lives did the mountain men end?

"I see," is all Clarke could muster up. The new view on things had lifted a lot of the weight that had been pressing on her chest, but she still had an ungodly amount of questions. So Clarke being Clarke, she asked the first one that popped into her head. "If your people believe you absorb kills, then why don't you just kill me?"

Lexa felt a pang in her chest at the blonde's question. Did Clarke seriously not understand what she was saying before or was she just playing coy? The brunette suppressed the growing urge to shake the blonde for her stubbornness. "Do you really need to ask me that?"

Feeling foolish, Clarke eyed the bed of furs, not letting her eyes meeting Lexa's again. Of course she had understood what the brunette had been saying before, but she just wanted to be sure that she wasn't being played or reading what she wanted of it. Course a part of her always knew that Lexa probably wouldn't come out and straightforwardly state her feelings, but the blonde kind of hoped she would.

"No," she whispered timidly. Why did she care if Lexa cared for her, anyway? She should hate the Commander, never want to see her again, not desperately want to reduce the distance between them and be around her as much as possible.

"Good," Lexa said in a resigned voice, it barely level. "Get some rest, Clarke. I will send Nyko in later to check on your ankle."

Clarke nodded and watched as Lexa turned and left the tent, never feeling more confused than she did in that moment.

* * *

As the Commander promised, Nyko entered the tent an hour or two later, his healer bag in hand. He extensively checked every one of her injuries from her throbbing ankle to the various sized cuts she had. Apparently some of the cuts were deeper and uglier than Clarke realized. It took them much longer than it really should have for the healer to look at Clarke's injuries, as the blonde begrudgingly shot the man stern looks and tried to dismiss his help.

"I will prepare a herb tea for you. It should help with the swelling and stave off infection in these larger cuts," Nyko said, eyeing one of the gruesomely large cuts that went from Clarke's underarm down to right above her wrist.

Without giving Clarke the opportunity to make a wise ass response, the healer vanished out of the tent. Before preparing the tea, Nyko stopped to see Lexa and update her as to Clarke's condition per the Commander's request.

_"Commander,"_ Nyko said with a bow, awaiting for Lexa to grant him permission to stand from his bowing stance.

_"Stand, Nyko,"_ the brunette leader said idly before asking, _"What of Clarke?"_

_"Her ankle is still in very bad shape. She has more cuts that went unnoticed before. I am making her a tea that will hopefully help with the swelling and avoid her getting infection from the cuts,"_ the healer responded.

_"I see. How long do you think before she will be able to walk again?"_ Lexa asked.

_"I do not know, Commander. She twisted her ankle at a bad angle. It could be a couple of weeks to a month. Maybe more. Only time will really tell. I do hope the tea will help speed the process some, though,"_ he responded hesitantly. Trying to put a date on when Clarke's injury would be healed enough to walk was difficult. Too many factors played into it.

_"Thank you for the update, Nyko. Is there anyway I can aid you in what you are doing for Clarke?"_ The brunette asked. She was not a healer by any means, but she would do whatever she could to ensure Clarke's safety. Nyko had already suspected her feelings towards the blonde, but wisely left it unmentioned.

The healer thought over Lexa's words in silence for a moment. _"Clarke resists my help in healing her and as a result I've missed several cuts because she would not cooperate. I still need to clean each of her cuts up before putting salve on them and bandaging them up. She thwarts my attempts to help her at every turn,"_ Nyko stated, not so much answering the brunette's question as to inform her of the blonde's refractory nature.

_"I understand, she is very stubborn. I will clean and address her cuts tonight. If you would prepare the tea, I will ensure she drinks that, as well,"_ Lexa stated, forcing herself not to roll her eyes thinking about Clarke's pigheadedness.

_"Yes, Commander,"_ Nyko answered, bowing some naturally in respect, _"I will go make the tea now,"_ he added before quickly evacuating the Commander's tent. He put a pot on to come to a boil and begun preparing the necessary herbs.

* * *

When the water had begun boiling, Nyko created the tea and sought out the Commander to give it to her. Moments after he left the brunette leader's tent, he spotted her briskly walking to the tent that had become the blonde sky girls. He couldn't help the smirk that made way to his face spotting the content look on Lexa's face as she walked. There was something definitely going on between the Commander and the leader of the sky people.

"Clarke," Lexa said to announce that she was in the room. She smiled a little when she heard Clarke sleepily grunt in reply, clearly agitated for her rest being disturbed. Moments later when she was fully inside Clarke's tent, she seen lethargic blue eyes staring at her.

Without hesitation, the brunette walked to the seat that still resided alongside Clarke's bed of furs and plopped down. She handed the cup of tea out to Clarke, "Drink this."

The blonde whined in reply, already suspecting the tea would taste just as bad as it smelled. She knew there would be no use arguing with Lexa, as the woman would be more inclined to force the healing tea down her throat than appease protests. Nyko probably made mention of her disgruntled attitude towards him earlier and this was his way of payback. Figured.

Clarke practically spit the herbal tea back out when the awful taste hit her lips. She clenched her eyes closed and forced herself to swallow the awful stuff. When she opened her eyes she seen Lexa staring at her with a slight smirk ghosting the corner of her lips and Clarke rewarded her with a dirty look.

Lexa's expression sobered up the moment she realized she had faltered, based on the glower from Clarke. "We have to clean up your cuts so I can put salve on them," the brunette stated, patting the blonde's arm supportively before heading back to the bowl of water and rag that was on the table.

"Ugh, is this Nyko's way of payback?" Clarke bellyached, trying fruitlessly to shift herself away from Lexa as the brunette approached her with a damp rag.

"Nope. I offered to take this task over from him. You seemed to have unnerved him, though," the brunette replied with a slight chuckle thinking back on the frustrated look on Nyko's face.

Hearing Lexa laugh, the blonde felt herself unconsciously relax, conforming to her cuts being cleaned up. As much as she hated being tended to and fussed over, somehow it being Lexa who was doing it didn't bother Clarke quite as bad as it had with Nyko. Perhaps it was because she knew Lexa wouldn't surrender to her persistence like others normally would.

A bit later, Lexa felt compelled to inquire, "How exactly did you get all these cuts?" She actually didn't mean to, she just kind of asked.

"I was running from Rhett and Shae when I fell and twisted my ankle. I thought you had put a kill order out on me or something…" Clarke said, and was interrupted before she could continue.

"I would never do such a thing, Clarke," Lexa said, interrupting the blonde mid sentence. She paused what she was doing and stared at Clarke in the eyes as if to reaffirm the statement.

"Well I didn't know that then, did I?" Clarke said stubbornly, trying to avoid what Lexa had said the best she could. "When I couldn't run, or walk for that matter, I started to crawl away. Guessing the ground wasn't too happy with that," she stated lightheartedly, trying desperately to be done with the conversation they were in the middle of. In fact, she wouldn't have been too fussed if Lexa had allowed her to finish cleaning and tending to her own wounds.

"I see," Lexa replied neutrally as she turned over Clarke's arm to tend to a long, jagged cut that went from her above her wrist to her underarm. It took all of her willpower to keep her face impassive, not wanting to show how hurt she felt that the blonde thought she would try to hurt her. Then again, she knew she couldn't blame Clarke; with the way things were left on the mountain, there was a lot of uncertainty. She had betrayed Clarke.

Lexa finished cleaning the blonde's wounds in silence, then went back to the first of the cuts she cleaned to apply salve and bandage it up. She continued in succession to the other cuts, putting a layer of salve and bandaging them. At the bigger gashes the blonde instinctively recoiled as the cold salve imposed itself over the irritated skin, but that didn't stop Lexa's determination to see every cut covered.

The moment the brunette finished coating the last cut with salve and covering it, she glanced up to find Clarke staring intently at her. Simply nodding to indicate she was done, Lexa stood and gathered the supplies she used before giving a strained smile to Clarke. "I will return later with something to eat. Try to get some rest, Clarke," she suggested before turning and leaving without allowing the blonde to respond.

Lexa practically bolted off to avoid having to look at the perplexed, distressed look on the blonde's face. She was clearly still reeling over the situation and fighting her own demons, and knowing she was a big part of the problem made her stomach churn uncomfortably.

The brunette couldn't do anything about what she did, leaving Clarke and the sky people at the mountain, but she had silently vowed to make it up to her. Clarke battled her own war for what she did at Mount Weather, the Commander fought with herself over the decision she made leaving Clarke's side. It was decided upon with her head and not her heart, but yet she felt chewed up and empty inside. She would need to figure out a way to rule evenly with her head and her heart. The bets for her people and the best for the one who had possessed her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Will post the next chapter within the next 24 hours or so and continue writing, hopefully have chapters 5 and 6 within the next couple days


	4. About-Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's mood has soured greatly being cooped up in the tent healing for over a week and Lexa intends to rectify that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes in a bit of a different direction than I had in mind originally, but that's mostly to remain realistic. If Clarke truly had hurt her ankle, she wouldn't want to be cooped up in the tent for over a month, she'd stubbornly want a change of scenery. As usual, any dialog Trigedasleng will be in italics since I don't know the language all that well

# Chapter 4 - About-Face

A week had come and gone with Clarke still recovering.

Due to the condition of her ankle she was forced to remain bedridden and her anxiousness to leave the confines of the tent grew by the hour. Basically she wanted a change of scenery instead of remaining cooped up in the yellow-orange tent that only had––besides the bed of furs the blonde herself was laying in––one chair and two small wooden tables for furniture.

She truly missed the little things she began taking for granted after she landed on Earth, like breathing in an abundance of fresh air and feeling the rays of the sun kiss her face. She hadn't felt the sun on her skin in a week or been able to marvel at how exquisite the sky looked with the stars shining bright and happy in the sky.

It was torture for her, and of course it soured her mood. No matter how frequently Lexa visited or how friendly she tried to be, Clarke practically bit her head clean off each and every time. Likewise when Nyko showed up several times a day to check on her ankle, healing cuts, and her as a whole.

At first Lexa assumed Clarke's erratic behavior towards her was in association with the outcome of Mount Weather and the Commander's part in it. However, yesterday when Lexa was heading into the blonde's tent to give her her nightly meal, she noted quietly to herself that Clarke was equally brash towards her healer, as well. At that point everything started to make sense.

* * *

The next day Lexa ensured her schedule was completely free before donning herself in a rustic tunic and comfortable fitting pair of pants. She planned on taking Clarke out, though she hadn't quite worked out the logistics of how she was going to accomplish that without hurting the blonde's healing ankle.

 _"I would like to take Clarke out today. She is no doubt getting frustrated having to remain steadfast in her tent. However, I have not worked out how to do so without reversing what progress has been made on her ankle,"_ Lexa confided to Nyko when she spotted him. Normally she would have to find a solution on her own, being the Commander, but Nyko was her most trusted healer and a friend. Their friendship, after all, had begun before the Commander's spirit chose her to lead their people.

 _"I see,"_ Nyko answered, but remained otherwise silent for a moment before turning to face Lexa. He knew the brunette sought him out as a friend, not as the Commander. He took the moments of silence to articulate his response.

 _"She is stubborn and will probably refuse help, but it is very important that she does not put any pressure at all on her ankle. Even the slightest bit could reverse the healing that has occurred so far,"_ Nyko stated the obvious gently before continuing. _"Perhaps I could carry her? We do not have many wounded right now and those we do can be tended to by the other healers,"_ he suggested.

He knew that Lexa had grown very close to the blonde and genuinely cared for her, despite how guarded she forced herself to remain majority of the time. There were many things he would rather do with his time than breach the privacy of the two women, but he also knew that Clarke was ruthlessly stubborn and blinded by ghosts, so his presence as a healer would help in case she attempted anything stupid.

Lexa mulled over the healer's suggestion for the briefest of moments before giving him a solemn nod. _"Yes, that would work well, thank you, Nyko. I will go inform Clarke of today's plans and will return to get you afterward."_

In response Nyko merely nodded and gave her a smile before turning back to shift his workload off to the other healer's in the camp.

* * *

Lexa filled the disgruntled blonde in on the plans for the day. Clarke's mood significantly improved upon hearing she would finally be leaving the damned tent she'd grown to detest, even if it were only for the day. Although she wasn't too happy with the idea of having to be carried everywhere, but she didn't argue. Beggars couldn't be choosers, after all.

Thereafter the Commander went to retrieve Nyko and relieve him, officially, of his workload for the day. The healer had already taken the necessary steps to reassign other available healers his patients that way no one was unattended. Once that was fully taken care of, Nyko gathered his medical bag and, upon Lexa's orders, added a large canteen of water and a smaller satchel that contained some food for the three to eat throughout the day, as well.

Nyko and Lexa made idle chit chat as they trekked back to Clarke's tent to retrieve the blonde. The healer mostly spoke of the patients in his care and the growing frequency to which he and other healers needed to restock their herbs. Apparently the new warriors in training were getting nicked with their sparring opponents swords all too often.

 _"Perhaps we should have them train with wooden swords and staves longer,"_ Lexa mused with a smirk playing at her features as she pulled back the tent flap and entered, Nyko in step behind her.

 _"I don't even think that would help them, Commander,"_ Nyko stated with a light chuckle. _"They are too used to the wooden weapons and the lack of injury being hit by them gives."_

 _"Indeed, and their complacency awards them with painful scars until they learn to adapt,"_ Lexa remarked, her face still alight in a grin.

" _Well, it certainly keeps us healers on our toes,"_ the healer deadpanned before busting out into a song of laughter. Lexa's grin grew to a full blown smile.

Clarke witnessed the conversation because Lexa and Nyko were arriving to her tent at the time, although the blonde's Trigedasleng wasn't good enough to pick out more than a handful of words at most. What didn't go unnoticed, though, was the playful smirk on the face that she had really only seen emotionless and a mirrored expression on the healer's face.

The injured blonde sat on her bed of furs with a clear mix of confusion and shock on her face at the sight of Lexa, the Commander of the twelve clans in the coalition, with something less than a fierce or impassive look on her face. She also couldn't help but notice the beauty of the woman's features as her lip curved upward.

"I didn't realize you were capable of lightening up," Clarke commented, the look of surprise still very evident in her features. The more she looked on at the spectacle in front of her, the more she realized that Lexa almost looked relaxed, like her and Nyko were good friends or something.

"You have not seen me during times of peace, Clarke," the brunette replied factually, a rather tranquil look upon her face.

"Apparently," the blonde sneered back, regretting it the moment it left her mouth. She knew a lot of her foulness had to do with being in the same tent for well over a week without a remote change of scenery, or even location. That didn't make her feel any less guilty for being a bitch, though. Lexa, and Nyko, had clearly gone out of their way to give her a break from the dimly lit portable canvas shelter.

Lexa, who looked rather unaffected by the hellish comment made by the blonde, glanced sidelong at Nyko. The poor fella looked wickedly uncomfortable, almost as if he regretted subjecting himself to a whole day of crazy women. Nyko shot a questioning glance at the brunette leader, his eyes wandering back to Clarke, as if to silently query whether or not he should pick her up or wait for a verbal command of sorts. Said brunette caught onto what she was mutely being asked and simply nodded in his direction, nonverbal consent.

"It's important that you not put any pressure on your ankle," the tall, built man declared as he closed the gap between himself and the injured blonde. "I will be carrying you today to ensure you do not hurt yourself further."

Clarke sighed dramatically before muttering, "So I was told."

As the man built like an ox picked Clarke up bridal style, he shot her an apologetic look before schooling his features. Lexa waited for the blonde to be comfortably in Nyko's arms before throwing a bag over her chest and whirling on her heels to leave with the healer trailing in step behind her.

None of them spoke as they made their way out of the small camp. Because Clarke had been passed out on her way to the camp in Rhett's arms and been thereafter confined to her bed to heal, she had no idea where they were and didn't really think to ask. It didn't really matter one way or another, she couldn't physically get herself out of bed let alone out of the tent to look and asking would just make her curious.

Nevertheless, she noted that they were in TonDC, or more accurately, what was left of it. It was in the process of being rebuilt. The little village was vastly different from what she remembered after the missile strike, so it was clear to her that the Grounders were putting huge amounts of efforts into ensuring it would be rehabilitated as soon as possible.

Despite the fact that the center of the village truly looked like ground zero, nothing more than a massive, ruined hole in the earth, normalcy could be spotted on the outskirts around the wreckage. Young men and women were training with wooden swords off to the left and further yet was a gaggle of slightly older and more vetted combatants with real steel blades of various sizes and shapes. On the right Clarke could see recently built homes and business establishments. As the trio walked out of the camp, hushed whispers from villagers could be heard, some gawking or wide eyed with recognition.

In an effort to ignore it, Clarke leaned her head back against Nyko's arm and stared up at the sky, relishing in the feeling of the sun beating down on her skin. She drew in a deep lungful of fresh air and a wide smile broached her face. Oh, how she missed nature.

Even though she was walking ahead, Lexa was still able to steal a couple of glances back at the blonde and couldn't help but appreciate the look of awe on the woman's face as she took in the gusto of mother nature once again.

Perhaps a day walking in the woods and down by the lake would do her wonders after all.

* * *

Half an hour passed as the three made their way out of the village and into the woody lands. Clarke had asked at least a dozen times where they were going and Lexa's vague responses made apprehension bubble in her stomach. Eventually she resigned herself to the fact that the brunette had no intention of spilling about what the day entailed, so she simply shifted herself in Nyko's arms and appreciated the beauty all around her.

"We're here," the Commander announced happily. The blonde looked up towards the brunette, who had shifted herself to the side so she could look over at Nyko and Clarke. Bewilderment was the first thing emotion that flickered across Clarke's face as she stared out at an expensive, but beautiful lake. The water was a beautiful saturated shade of blue that when the ray's of the sun hit on it caused an alluring cascade of shimmering light.

"It's beautiful," Clarke marveled, her eyes taking in the scenery. She wanted so badly to run into the water and feel the cool, freshness of it against her skin, but she supposed Nyko wouldn't appreciate her harming her ankle.

Lexa smiled genuinely in Clarke's direction before turning back to face the lake, walking down so she was just inches away from the water that lapped up against the dirt. She sat down and gestured for Nyko to set the bundle in his arms down near where she sat.

The healer carefully set Clarke down in front of Lexa and took several steps away to give the two privacy. He was only the muscle for the day, he didn't want to impose on the two otherwise.

Understanding what Nyko was doing, Lexa gave him an appreciative nod before observing Clarke once more, who hadn't taken her eyes off the lake. Lexa felt a lump form in her throat as she noted the way the sun made Clarke's hair glow a beautiful shade of golden-blonde. She also couldn't help but notice the serene look on the woman's face and the lack of tension that usually had her body as tight as a piano string. It made a rush of warmth flood over Lexa to see the blonde actually look comfortable around her.

"You're staring," Clarke stated the obvious as she stole a glimpse in her peripheral vision at Lexa.

The blonde's statement garnered a throat clear from Lexa, who preoccupied herself by taking the bag off her chest and flipping it open. "Are you hungry?" She asked knowingly. Seeing as she had been the one to give Clarke her meals for well over a week, she suspected the blonde would be hungry.

"Yes," she replied and couldn't help but crane her head back to where Nyko stood, leaning against a tree. Seeing as he did lug her around the least she could do was be friendlier towards him. "Come on, you're probably hungry, too. Got to keep up those muscles if you're going to tote me back to camp," she stated with a playful edge to it. She couldn't help have a newfound respect towards the man.

The healer didn't move a muscle, simply looked at his leader for instruction. She gave him a half-smile and gestured for him to join. Reluctantly he joined, sitting beside the two women as Lexa passed the water canteen she brought to Clarke and unwrapped her satchel of food. Nyko couldn't stave off the smirk that worked its way to his face as he looked on at the way Lexa interacted with Clarke. She definitely fancied the blonde, that became more and more evident.

"What's so funny?" Clarke asked, having taken notice of the spontaneous grin on the healer's face.

Nyko looked like he'd been caught stealing, a mortified expression on his face. Immediately he turned to Lexa for help only to find she had an amused look on her face looking at him. Relenting, he cleared his throat and looked down at the dirt, deciding whether to speak true or play off what happened.

Sensing the distress, Lexa let out a throaty chuckle and leaned into the man. _"You're here as my friend today, Nyko. Do not worry."_ At the look of concern Nyko gave her, she added for his benefit, _"You can tell her your thoughts, it's okay. I would be surprised if you hadn't pieced it all together by now anyway."_

The healer merely nodded hesitantly before turning his attention to Clarke, who wore a puzzled expression. She clearly didn't understand what was said, but her eyes were begging for someone to translate. "Because of my reluctance to answer, I was reminded that I am here today as a friend and not a healer or soldier and am allowed to speak freely," the man explained simply before uncomfortably playing at the hem of his shirt.

"Alright then, so…" Clarke said, trying to figure out what the hell made the intimidatingly tall man seem squirm.

"I see how _the Commander_ ––" Nyko began, only to be caught off by the brunette.

"Lexa. We are not in formal standing right now, Nyko," the brunette leader reminded her friend.

Timidly nodding, Nyko continued, "I have seen how Lexa interacts with you."

Clarke had hoped that Nyko's answer would shine some light on what the heck was going on, but it only made her confusion grow. She let out a frustrated sigh before deadpanning to the two in front of her, "You're making me even more confused, here."

This visibly made the healer shrink as if he wanted to just dissipate from the situation entirely. He knew Lexa since before she was the leader of her people and considered her to be a good friend, but being in the middle of whatever the two women were was immensely awkward. He couldn't help but look over at the brunette for help.

Lexa had to force herself not to bust out laughing at how timid Nyko became breaching the subject of feelings. The same Nyko who she fought bravely beside in wars. The same one who was a magnificent and talented healer. Yet discussions of the subject they were on made him squirrelly.

"He has observed how I act towards you," the brunette said with a bashful smile before handing around the food she packed for them to eat.

All three ate in silence, Clarke digesting and dissecting what was spoken aloud. A week ago when the blonde asked why she was at the Grounder camp, Lexa had confessed how she felt for Clarke and how her enemies could use it against her. To be brutally honest, a big part of her didn't quite believe the brunette after everything that happened between them. Especially her betrayal at Mount Weather. However, it being brought up again and Nyko's mousy attitude basically confirmed that it was not a lie or deceit, but authentic.

They had shared a kiss in Lexa's tent before Mount Weather, but Clarke wasn't ready then. She had just lost Finn and moving on so quickly after that just felt wrong. That coupled with the fact that they were only hours away from going to war, she really didn't take the time to analyze the situation like she normally would. However, after what happened at the mountain, she assumed that was Lexa's way of stating that there was nothing to examine, that she was nothing more than a sky person who was easy to give up when things got tough.

Even though Clarke knew in the depths of her heart that Lexa accepting the deal from the mountain men wasn't because she didn't care for Clarke, it was what was best for her people. It was something that Clarke probably would have done had the roles been reversed. Although it did reaffirm that no matter what Clarke did or didn't feel for Lexa, she wasn't and probably never would be one of her people.

"I used to come down here when I was very little with a few of my friends," Lexa said softly, her words cutting through the silence. "We were only four or five years old, just before the age of training to become warriors, but we would wage our own war in the water with fun games and horseplay." A smile danced across her face as she remembered her and those she knew at a tender age play in the water.

"Sounds like fun," Clarke murmured while she thought back on her own time as a child in the Ark. "We didn't have the beautiful water or nature that you have here on the Ark. We had a room that the children stayed in during the day while our parents worked and would find fun to do with what we had around us. Ironically the one thing we all had in common was our desire to land on the ground, to see the wonders we only read about in books. To breathe in the musk of nature and feel the sun on our faces."

"I cannot imagine not being on the ground," Nyko said sympathetically as he looked at the blonde. When the sky people first landed he mused what it must have been like to be trapped in a giant tin container for decades, but he couldn't ever think of himself there.

"What exactly made you all decide to land?" Lexa asked curiously, intently looking at Clarke.

"We were running out of air and supplies, we couldn't sustain ourselves much longer, so they shipped one hundred of us down to the ground to see if it was habitable," the blonde replied grimly.

"So you volunteered?" The healer asked quizzically, trying to figure out how the sky people decided who to launch to the ground.

"No. The original one hundred of us sent to the ground were all adolescent prisoners. They wouldn't float children, so instead they locked them up in jail cells. Even the smallest of crimes were capital offenses," the sky woman replied. Though she spoke civilly, she couldn't help but feel a mountain of anger bubble in her throat like a volcano that had remained dormant for too many years. Thinking back to the reason she was sent to the ground made her mind linger to why she was sent to the blasted cells to begin with.

"Do you miss it? Your home in space, I mean," Lexa asked before she could really think about it. She couldn't help wanting to know more about Clarke and her life before she reached Earth.

"I mostly miss the people, not so much the place," the blonde cryptically answered. She didn't want to go into detail about how she lost her father when she was thrown into a holding cell or how when they landed on the ground she lost her best friend, Wells, not too long after they made up.

"I see," the brunette responded quietly, catching on that it was a tough subject. "Would you like to go into the water when we're done eating?" She asked, changing the subject.

"Definitely. Uh, assuming you don't mind, Nyko?" Clarke asked, glancing at the big guy. If she went in, it would require him to carry her, so she didn't want to get him unnecessarily wet if he didn't really want to be.

"I don't mind," he replied neutrally. Truthfully, he didn't really want to get himself all wet, but he seen the look in the blonde's eyes and couldn't help but cave. Maybe Lincoln was right, he was a softie.

Clarke grinned a little, "I'm glad I can't go in too far or really work this damned ankle. I can't swim."

Nyko and Lexa's heads snapped to the blonde's, a look of utter surprise on their faces. She couldn't swim? However, as seconds ticked by they realized how likely it was that they had bodies of water up in their tin can in space.

"I can teach you one day, if you would like," Lexa suggested casually, though a familiar lump formed in her throat the prospect of spending more time with Clarke in the future.

"Sure, it would probably come in handy the next time I'm jumping off a cliff into water," Clarke mused before rolling her eyes remembering how her and Anya escaped the mountain. Somehow that memory didn't dig up the awful experiences at Mount Weather, only how happy she was to be free of the dreadful place and that she and Anya were on somewhat civil terms.

Nyko made a sound that seemed like a cross between a grunt and a laugh before saying, "I'm sure there's a story behind that?"

The blonde merely nodded in reply, a sheepish smile on her face. She wouldn't bring it up, though, as she knew Anya was someone near and dear to Lexa. Equally she didn't want to risk thinking too long about the mountain for fear that the Mount Weather war would slide into the forefront of her memories.

So instead she took strange comfort in the company of Lexa and Nyko. For the first time since her feet landed on the ground she didn't feel paranoid or afraid or any number of other emotions that often ebbed and flowed through her. Instead she just was herself, no leadership commitments or fighting for survival or looking out for everyone else. She was able to just be.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm brand new to AO3; I've been on Fanfiction.net as KellyDeaux as well. More chapters of this story are found there until I get them fully added here. Will be adding a chapter a day of my stories, so will take a handful of days for both stories to be completely in sync.


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